


ambience

by gortysproject



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: (if you can even call it a relationship it's more like a Vague Dysfunctional Mess), Established Relationship, Insomnia (??), M/M, Smoking, Substance Abuse, self-destructive behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 03:39:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11005197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gortysproject/pseuds/gortysproject
Summary: jacobi just needs to clear his mind sometimes.





	ambience

The breeze is cold against Jacobi’s bared skin. As he stares out at the street below, goose bumps erupt along his arms, a shiver creeping its way up his spine only to be ignored. Still, he hunches in on himself slightly, forearms leaning on the railing, wishing he were wearing more than just his undershirt and sweatpants but struggling to find the motivation to go back inside to find a jacket.

A cigarette is pinched between his fingers, dangling over the balcony edge, streaming smoke as Jacobi raises his hand to breathe in the dull taste of ash. It’s disgusting; it won’t ever be anything but disgusting. Still, he sucks in the sharp breath, exhaling steadily afterwards, eyes following the trail of smoke as it dissipates in the air in front of him.

The city life carries on below him, and he watches it, sees the people still out at ass o’clock in the morning and still awake by their own choice. In contrast, he’s spent the entire night trying to sleep – it just evaded him.

His collarbone is bruised, and his fingers press against the painting of purpling marks and soft outlines of teeth still dotted across his exposed skin. He digs his fingers in more, relaxing with the grounding pain and letting his eyes slip shut to appreciate the muffled sounds of a city street and the whip of ice-cold wind against his paling skin. His hair, still mussed from being grabbed and tugged and run through with steady fingers a few hours before, ruffles in the breeze. The gel is failing him after being so thoroughly abused, and strands of his hair now drop into his eyes. Jacobi pushes them out of his face, but when they simply fall back down, he sighs and leaves them alone.

“Mr Jacobi,” Kepler’s voice starts mildly from behind him, and Jacobi flinches, barely stopping himself from dropping the cigarette altogether. “I hope that isn’t becoming _addictive_ for you.”

Jacobi turns around, the small of his back now pressing into the balcony’s railing. Kepler stands in the doorway, the glass door slid fully open and his shoulder leaning against the frame. Hair sleep-tousled and voice sleep-thickened, Jacobi wonders for a moment if he woke him, and if he should feel bad about it. He decides against it.

“No, sir,” he replies instead, obedient. “Besides, if I wanted to find something to get addicted to –”

“— Which you don’t.”

“— Which I _don’t_ , but I sure as hell wouldn’t choose _smoking_.” As he speaks, he bumps the top of his cigarette lightly with his finger, allowing the ash to drop off and fall past the balcony to the street below. The breeze sweeps past them again, and he grits his teeth to stop himself from shivering, shoulders curving slightly in defence.

Kepler regards him apathetically, almost disinterestedly, but if he weren’t interested then he wouldn’t be out here with him. “Can’t sleep?” he asks conversationally, and Jacobi represses a sigh.

“It just wasn’t happening tonight, sir.” As he speaks, he feels fatigue dripping from every bone in his body, and the slight dark circles under his eyes and the tremble in his fingertips would tell anyone this isn’t a one-off. Kepler doesn’t press, however, and Jacobi feels infinitely grateful when his CO simply jerks his head in a sharp nod; he isn’t understanding him, just acknowledging him, and Jacobi thinks he prefers that.

“You’re not cold?” Kepler asks, and he steps out onto the balcony, now, barefoot and still a little sleepy and, Jacobi thinks, _undeniably gorgeous_. Jacobi turns as Kepler moves past him, and he faces away from the door again, the softness of his stomach now digging into the railing as he leans over just a fraction. The cigarette finds its way between his lips, again, and he pinches it between his thumb and forefinger to lower it.

“No.” Just as he speaks, the breeze grazes over his skin again, and this is a shiver he can’t push down. An amused huff from Kepler tells Jacobi that he saw it, and Jacobi doesn’t need to look at his boss to picture the exact slightly smug, slightly warm half-smile curving the corner of Kepler’s lips.

Only, just as Jacobi prepares himself for Kepler’s cutting response, perhaps in a joke or in a reprimand or in a simple, _you’re a bad liar, Jacobi_ , he receives none of it. Instead, a warm ( _too warm_ ) hand presses against his exposed hip, the touch like fire against his icy skin. It slides around his waist, wrapped around firmly to hold Jacobi, tug him back from the railing, back into Kepler’s chest as lips trail carefully over his bare shoulder - softly, barely touching, never pressing down. Jacobi can’t help but lean into the warmth radiating from Kepler, and he’s forgotten about the cigarette between his fingers, his muscles loosening to the point where he could drop the damn thing over the edge and he wouldn’t even notice.

Kepler’s breath, also warm, dusts over the edge of Jacobi’s jaw. “Try to get some sleep,” he murmurs, and Jacobi wants to nod but Kepler is so close and he can’t dare to scare him away with any sudden movement. “We have a big day tomorrow. I need you alert.”

Jacobi swallows instinctively, and Kepler is so close to him that he can feel the curl of Kepler’s lips against his skin when he smiles faintly. “Yes – yes, sir,” Jacobi tells him, breathed out carefully, because in this position Kepler could ask for his soul and he’d happily sell it for only a kiss.

“Good,” Kepler croons, and all too suddenly the warmth is gone. He hears the padding of feet that tell him Kepler is going back inside. “Besides, Jacobi,” he adds, voice loud enough for Jacobi to hear him from outside but still slightly hushed from the reverence of the night, “it’s warm in here.”

Hand gripping the railing, Jacobi stares out at the street for a moment longer, just a moment. Before he knows what he’s doing, he stubs out the cigarette against the railing, flicking the butt over the edge and turning to follow Kepler inside.

**Author's Note:**

> henlo sorry for how short this is but i wrote it On The Spot  
> as always, i'm @aihera on tumblr


End file.
